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Me, being the only one that had, had talked enough sense into the moron to get him to stop before he’d killed the guy.
I’d done that by telling Marcus point-blank that the man was the son of a judge, a judge that had a lot of clout and could easily take him down.
He’d relented, but just barely.
“Let me know if we can do anything else,” Luke said as he stood. “It sounds like you’re doing what you can. If that changes, give me a heads up.”
I nodded once in understanding, then stood up and offered my hand.
Luke took it, then dropped it.
“Not really how I wanted your first assignment on the job to go,” he grumbled. “Would’ve rather put your skills to use. Have you ever considered the SWAT team?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m not really about that life. I’d rather become a detective like my father.”
Luke tipped up his chin in understanding.
“Sad to see those skills you have go to that side of the board, but you’re a smart motherfucker. Not many people I know that scored a 99 on their ASVAB,” he said. “I’ve never seen an MP come out of the Army with as much experience as you have.”
I’d been lucky. I’d gotten into a cake job early on, and they’d sent me to school and I’d pretty much been living my dream job in the Army. When I’d gotten out, it hadn’t been because I’d wanted to get out, but because they were considering sending me to Kuwait, and I hadn’t wanted to go there.
That had also been because I’d had a girlfriend at the time that I’d been tossing around the idea of asking her to marry me.
So I’d decided not to re-enlist. I’d boxed all of my shit up, and I’d moved.
Which was why I ended up here in Kilgore, Texas.
And the day that I’d gotten here, I’d surprised her by arriving three days early. I’d found her having coffee with her ex-boyfriend and discussing the merits of getting back together and her breaking up with me.
She hadn’t realized I was at the next table over until I suggested that if she still had feelings for the other man, that she break up with her current boyfriend.
Sadly, I’d already purchased a shop with an apartment, and I’d already committed to the Kilgore Police Department via contract. Meaning I was stuck for at least a year.
“Well,” I shrugged. “I’m happy where I ended up for the most part. I can’t say that undercover work was really my goal when I started, but it’s not bad.”
I mean, I had a job that I was getting paid for, and I was also working in a garage that was considered ‘mine’ and was also getting paid for that, too.
It was a win-win as far as I was concerned.
Double the pay, don’t have to live in the apartment next to Natalie, and every once in a while, I get to help a man out in a wheelchair and talk some sense into Marcus Gomez.
“All right,” Luke said. “I want you to escalate things. Push and see what Gomez does.”
“That push needs to come in the form of an arrest of his ladies, someone reporting his crack house, or destroying his meth operation,” I suggested. “Those three things are his main sources of income.”
“Do all three,” Luke suggested. “An anonymous tip for the house and the meth operation, and I’ll have KPD run a drive-by from time to time to catch any of his ladies. A sting would be okay.”
“I can do the sting just fine,” I said. “Nearly all of them have expressed interest.”
Luke nodded. “We’ll get your car loaded up for visual and audio. Let us know where you want to take them, and we’ll have officers in the next room to perform the arrest.”
So, that was exactly what I did.
Within a day, nearly seven of Marcus’ girls were gone, led away by me—not that they knew that. They’d seen me going away in handcuffs just like they were. Only once they were loaded into the squad cars, they released me to do it all over again.
Also, both Marcus’ crack house and his meth operation were uncovered and exposed, leaving him with four other girls to give him income and a shit load of anger to work out.
That anger sadly focusing on the one girl that had nothing to do with it.
One girl with fiery red hair, curves for days, a soft, delicate jaw, pouty red lips, and gray eyes that were so light they were almost on the verge of creepy.
One girl that didn’t know how to stay out of trouble.Chapter 4
There’s a fine line between ‘I should say that’ and ‘I should talk to a therapist.’
-Royal’s secret thoughts
Royal
My day started out pretty well.
I’d gone to visit my brother—who was at home and healing nicely. My dad hadn’t said a word to me. Marta had been there and I hadn’t had to call her.
